


These Four Walls

by Kris



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M, Non Consensual, Prison Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-17
Updated: 2008-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/pseuds/Kris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Burn Notice, Michael, Prison Sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Four Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Ash/Jack Vale

The first night hadn't been all that pleasant, and while he didn't have a cell to himself, he at least had a cell with some kid who looked like he'd piss himself if Michael so much as breathed in his direction. The catcalls hadn't bothered him but they had bothered his cellmate whose eyes had gone round with fear as he listened to the taunts that the other inmates tossed his way, detailing what they were going to do to him.

It's in the yard though, on the second day, that he makes it clear he doesn’t take it from anyone. They come at him in a group of three while he's standing beside his cellmate. Large, white, and bald, one of them has a swastika tattooed on his neck. He shrugs his shoulders when one of them asks where he stands which doesn’t satisfy them in the least.

"What we want to know," the largest and probably dumbest says, getting right into Michael's face. "Is if you're hanging around with the Chink because you're new and he's your cellmate or because you like him." Michael raises an eyebrow.

"I'm hanging around with him because he's a sight better than the other options around here." He smiles at them and when the man's fist comes at him 

Michael catches his wrist and pulls him off balance, a well placed knee to the stomach brings the man to his knees. He looks at the others and apparently it's on because they both come at him swinging. The guards don't seem inclined to break up the fight and by the time it ends Michael has bruised ribs and a black eye, and his opponents have a broken arm, four black eyes, a broken nose, six broken fingers, and two bruised kidneys to share between them. The guards swoop in when it's all said and done and haul him off to solitary confinement where he meets the warden for the first time.   
The warden is a walking overused cliché, short, fat, balding, wearing an ill-fitting white suit and sporting a thick southern accent. Typically Michael's greeting doesn't exactly go over well.

"The 80's called, they want you back." The warden is smarter than he looks. 

"That supposed to rile me up, Son?" he drawls. "The problem I see is that you're new to this, and your sentence is pretty harsh. That don't mean my men are gonna go easy on you. You need to keep an eye on who you piss off around these here parts."

"Those Nazi-sympathizing bozos in the yard?" Sarcasm, one of the best tools of the trade for deflecting an interrogation. While it does more than occasionally get someone beaten up, it keeps that someone from saying something they shouldn't, for example "I'm a spy for the US government who was burned and on orders to stay in Miami and the only reason I'm here is because Agent Bly has a hard on for me" which really wouldn’t get him anywhere.

"Brutus? Nah, he's a small fish in a small pond who likes to make waves. I'm talking about your agent there, the one who stopped by to wish you good luck on your first day on the inside." He makes the word 'inside' sound dirty and Michael fights to keep the sickened look off his face.

"Yeah, and what's good old Agent Bly going to do to me in here?" The warden sighs. 

"Son, if you had any brains you would tell that man what he wants to know," he says. "Because I may be in charge here, but this isn't my Rodeo if you catch my meaning."

"No," Michael says honestly. "I have no idea what you mean." Bly's done what he can, put him away in Prison because he left Miami. In a few months he'll be back out and back in Miami. Michael has information in his head about operations that aren't going to be happening for a year but need to have their plans finalized now. Information on a scale large enough that just scratching the mission isn't an option. Two months, max.

"Well that's a shame, I just want you to understand that if the orders come from high up enough, there's nothing I can do for you. You're on your own." He's being honest and forthright about it and Michael shrugs.

"Yeah, well I've been alone through worse things." 

*** 

He hasn't been alone through worse things, not by any stretch of the imagination, nothing, even undercover in Russia, compares to this. His cellmate is dead, knifed in the back by the bozos in the shower after they had shown him his rightful place on his knees, all in response to his protecting himself in the yard.

Under orders from someone high up he's been moved into the cell of one Matthew Larkin. Larkin is an ass. He's a good foot taller than Michael is. Broader, heavier set and when the guards push Michael into his new cell, his belongings already spread on the bottom bunk, one of them whispers harshly in his ear.

"Agent Bly says hello." 

He's against the wall with an arm pushing tightly into his throat before he can process everything and Larkin looks at him with deep brown unblinking eyes.

"You're very pretty," Larkin murmurs, leaning forward to sniff at Michael's neck. 

*** 

"Michael," Agent Bly's smiling face greets him. He's been in prison for a month and a half now and he was expecting this visit, he's relieved but not showing it.

"Agent Bly," Michael says. His voice is rough from the half an hour he just spent on his knees for Larkin but he doesn't let Bly's knowing smirk get to him.

"Ooh," Bly says and touches his own throat sympathetically. "That sounds rough, aren't they treating you well here?" 

"Just coming down with something," Michael says. He slumps into the chair as much as he can without aggravating the marks Larkin left on his ass a week ago that still haven't healed. He still doesn't know where Larkin got the flogger but the man sure liked it a lot. "There something you want or did you just stop by to say hello?"

"Did you like the present I sent your cellmate?" Bly asks instead. "Took a long time to get it in here, piece by piece." Michael says nothing, just stares at him and Bly leans forward, arms resting on the small counter in the little visitor's alcove. "Apologize, conform, I can make it all go away."

"You're an asshole, and you're going to regret this when they need me." 

"I warned you what would happen," Agent Bly says, his face a mask of disappointment at Michael's answer. He shakes his head sadly. "You didn't listen to me though and now look where we are." Michael's fist smashes into the Plexiglas that separates them for the satisfaction of watching Bly flinch away from the movement. The satisfaction doesn't last long because the guards are on him in a second dragging him out of the interview room. "I can make it all go away," Bly shouts after him, "you know what you have to do."

*** 

The bargaining begins at the start of month two. He's barely 18, scrawny, weak and Michael makes a deal the minute the kid steps off the bus and the yard goes crazy.

"Anything," he promises, looking at the fear on the kid's face. He reminds Michael of his first cellmate except this one's a white kid which still isn't going to save him from Brutus the way he's slavering in the corner, pressed up against the fence.

"For what?" Larkin asks and Michael just points. Larkin takes in the new kid and there's no way that anyone in the yard doesn't know what'll happen to the kid tonight without protection. "Anything?"

"Absolutely anything," Michael says and feels a little something die on the inside. Larkin looks at him and points to the ground beside him and for the first time since Michael had been introduced to his new cellmate the yard sees him drop to his knees, a good little prag. Larkin ruffles his hair and says 'stay' before beating the absolute shit out of the first inmate that gets close enough to the kid to touch him through the fence.  
Bly visits once a week and every time he comes, his face looks a little more pinched, his shoulders a little tighter. 

*** 

It's month five by the time that Bly angrily shoves the release papers at the warden and drags Michael out of the prison, throws him into the back of a black SUV. He tells them everything he knows about the project they needed him for in return for the overturning of his fake prison sentence and he gets sent back to Miami where he goes to his apartment and pretends he doesn't know why he can't sleep at night and what the weird lonely feeling is that presses against him from all sides. Pretends that all the space in his apartment doesn't rattle him.

*** 

He opens the door, it's the thing you do when someone knocks on it or rings the bell. It's been three years and he never expected to see the man on the other side of it again.  
Matthew Larkin leans against the doorframe with a smirk and Michael knows his face is betraying his shock.   
"Is that anyway to greet me?" Larkin demands and without thought Michael falls to his knees.

/end


End file.
